Love Knows No Bounds
by Vorondil
Summary: After something happens to Jack, can Norrington admit his true feelings? Warning: There is slash in this, mostly implied until chapter 5. Don't like, don't read.
1. New Endings

Disclaimer: The Mouse owns all, I own nothing but the plot line. Warnings: There is slash in this fic, but not this chapter. Chapter 5 has the most slash. The rest is mainly implied.  
  
*~*~*~*  
  
Jack watches everything carefully from behind Will, glancing at the Officers out of the corner of his eye every now and then, just to make sure.  
  
"He's a pirate!" exclaims Governor Swann. Jack's attention is instantly drawn back to the conversation.  
  
"And a good man. If all I have achieved here is that the hangman will earn two pairs of boots instead of one, so be it. At least my conscience will be clear." Will replies.  
  
"You forget your place, Turner." This delivered in Norrington's slightly bored, agitated drawl.  
  
"It's right here, between you and Jack." It's in this moment that Jack notices movement to his right, but he dismisses it as just the Officers shifting their positions.  
  
Which is how Jack ends up with a bayonet tip in his side, a surprised gasp escaping his lips. Too focused on the pain, he doesn't notice when it is that he falls to his knees, or that Norrington is yelling at the soldier that stabbed him. He doesn't even notice when the other soldiers are told to leave, their red coats gradually disappearing from Jack's unseeing view, leaving only him, Will, Elizabeth, the Governor, and Norrington.  
  
He can hear them talking, but can't make out what they're saying, except one word that sounds suspiciously like 'doctor'. He starts to laugh at hearing that, then stops abruptly, as it hurts terribly. One of his hands travels down to lightly touch the wound, then is brought back up to eye level, and he's slightly surprised at how it doesn't even feel like he's moving his arm on his own.  
  
His fingers are coated in blood. The red fingers rub together, and he feels awed at seeing such a large amount of his own blood for what seems the first time.  
  
A soft pressure is on his shoulders, pushing him down to the ground. He struggles slightly, not wanting to go down, not willing to accept that this is it; this is the end of the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow.  
  
But then there's a voice in his ear, a familiar drawl, though no longer sounding bored, or agitated, but..scared? "Norrington." he hears faintly, unaware that it's his own quiet voice that utters the name.  
  
"..you dare, Jack Sparrow, don't you dare die." Strong hands are clutching Jack's vest and shirt, shaking slightly. The shaking brings the sights and sounds back, and Jack gazes blearily up into bright green eyes, a suspicious wetness clinging to the corners.  
  
Jack's bloody hand raises and a red finger presses to Norrington's cheek, the blood smearing slightly across the pale skin. It's too much energy to keep the hand up, so it slides down, leaving a trail of blood down Norrington's arm.  
  
He looks again into wet green eyes, his own dark brown ones glazing over once more, splotches of darkness beginning to cover the blurry shapes before going completely black, his body going limp.  
  
~*~*~*~ 


	2. Feelings

He hadn't known how panicky he'd feel when faced with the prospect of Jack actually dying. Before, when Jack was to hang, he hadn't felt anything remotely like this, most likely because Will was rushing ahead to save him.  
  
His lack of knowledge may have mainly been based on one's ability to only realize feelings that run along these lines when the one they feel for is mortally wounded, or something as such. He was unwilling to admit to feelings he'd denied so much, he hadn't known he'd had them, until recently.  
  
Looking down at the cloudy brown eyes staring past him, he feels revealing tears gather at the corners of his eyes. "Don't you dare, Jack Sparrow, don't you dare die."  
  
His voice brings out the smallest sound he'd ever heard come from Jack Sparrow, "Norrington." and it breaks his heart to hear it. He's aware that his hands are shaking, and not only from making them shake Jack from their hold on his vest and shirt.  
  
When Jack's bloody hand rises to touch his cheek, his heart jumps slightly at feeling the quickly cooling skin against his; then, the hand is gone, sliding down his arm to rest heavily against the stone of the fort. He almost smiles reassuringly at Jack, then he notices the brown eyes glazing over once more, before slipping closed, body going limp.  
  
An overwhelming urge to scream rises within him, but he holds the feeling down. He rips off his blue jacket and lays it aside, then tugs at the cream colored shirt underneath. Pulling it out of his trousers and making quick work of the buttons, he shrugs it off his shoulders, leaving him bare- chested. He tears at one of the sleeves, detaching it from the rest of the shirt, and folds it up, pushing Jacks shirts aside to place the fabric over the wound. Turning back to the ripped Navy shirt, he takes the other sleeve off as well, ripping down to the cufflink on both sides before wrapping it around Jack's waist to hold the makeshift bandage in place.  
  
He says nothing to Will, Elizabeth or the Governor as he picks up Jack's body and carries it to the doctor's home, ignoring everyone's indignant stares at his naked torso.  
  
~*~*~*~ A pale finger traces along tanned skin, brushes across dark eyebrows and closed eyelids, down over a straight nose, lingering on pale rosy lips before moving on to caress the twin braids of a beard.  
  
A few moments pass before the finger continues traveling, down a long neck to a collarbone, which receives almost as much attention as the braids did. A small sigh passes the previously visited lips, and the finger stills its movement.  
  
When the smaller body is still again, the finger resumes its quest, down a smooth chest, stroking along a muscled stomach, to stop at a slightly bloodstained bandage. The finger is joined by two others, all three gently toying with the edge of the white fabric.  
  
"S'not nice t' molest an injured man," a weak voice sounds.  
  
A scowl appears and the fingers retreat, along with the rest of the body. "I was not molesting you."  
  
Paled lips curve up into a pained grin. "What would you call it then?"  
  
Blushing, the taller of the two turns his head away, cursing himself for allowing himself a moment of weakness to mildly worship the other's body. "I don't know what you're talking about."  
  
Ah, denial again, Norrington? a voice whispers in his head. The scowl returns.  
  
"That look is quite becoming on you, Commodore." It was amazing how that voice could still hold onto its charm when the owner was in pain.  
  
"I should have dumped you off the fort when I had the chance," even though he knows he wouldn't have. The evidence was quite clear in the way that Sparrow could draw a blush from him.  
  
"You wouldn't really have, would you?" That knowing look in those dark eyes. Most irritating. And the bastard knew it, too. A sigh came from the pirate. "I don't suppose I could get any water, could I? Or some rum?"  
  
"I'm not your slave, Jack Sparrow -"  
  
"Captain, mate, Captain."  
  
Norrington continued as if he hadn't been interrupted. "You are very capable of it yourself. You've been resting for a week -"  
  
"A week!"  
  
"So I doubt it'll do much damage. You are the rudest human being I have ever laid eyes on," he adds exasperatedly.  
  
"S'part of me charm," Jack mumbles as he carefully sits up, the ache in his side not changing much from how it was when laying down. "Where's the kitchen?" He attempts to stand up straight, but a sharp pain prevents him from doing so and he almost falls over, if not for the hand suddenly attached to his arm. His eyes travel up a loose-fabric covered arm to meet green eyes. He cocks his head to the side in sudden curiosity, remembering the same green eyes being filled with tears the last time he'd seen them up close.  
  
"It's this way," Norrington replies before he can open his mouth, and he's being led away by the arm. He smiles at the memory this movement sparks. ~*~*~*~ 


	3. The Truth

Narrowed brown eyes cast a calculating gaze over the cards in Jack's hands, then glance up to watch Norrington's next move.  
  
His mind is not entirely on their card game, partially, instead, on other matters. Mostly on why Norrington had taken care of him, why he hadn't wanted Jack to die. A small part of him - and Jack is astounded that it's only a small part - is thinking of the sea and his ship.  
  
When Norrington puts down a card, Jack finally asks, "Why?"  
  
The green-eyed man looks at him strangely, glancing at the card he just put down, then back at Jack. "Why what?"  
  
Jack waves a hand in the air. "Why all this? Why nurse me back to health? Why keep me here?"  
  
Norrington sets his cards down on the table. "I'm not keeping you here, Jack. You're staying of your own free will."  
  
"Like that!" Jack exclaims, cards dropping from his hand when he points at Norrington. "That right there. What happened to all the hunting me down and hanging me?"  
  
"People change, Jack," Norrington sighs, rising from his chair to stand by the only window in the room, facing towards the sea.  
  
Jack looks at him now with a calculating gaze and comes to stand next to him. "Not usually so suddenly, James." And Jack wonders at the small thrill that goes through him at seeing Norrington smile at the use of his newly known name.  
  
"It wasn't sudden. I just hadn't realized it yet." He furrows his eyebrows as he gazes at the sea, the setting sun alighting it with reds and oranges.  
  
"Hadn't realized what?" Jack inquires curiously, a strange note of hope in his voice.  
  
James continues to look out the window, watching the distant waves roll against the shore. He couldn't tell Jack. It wouldn't work out anyway, him being the Commodore and Jack being a pirate. Maybe if he weren't the Commodore, and if people didn't look to him to keep them safe, if he hadn't joined the Navy in the first place. "Maybe," he murmurs, softly, not knowing he speaks the word aloud until Jack says something.  
  
"Maybe what?" An annoyed sound comes from Jack when the Commodore doesn't answer him again. He watches where James' eyes are looking and, with a small wistful sigh, says, "I miss the sea," and he's about to finish his sentence with, 'but not that much,' but James interrupts him suddenly.  
  
"You can go, Jack." When Jack gives him a surprised, questioning look, he elaborates, "You can leave. I'm not keeping you here, and you obviously long to be reunited with the sea. And your ship," he adds, pointing out the window to where a black ship almost blends in with the coming gloom.  
  
Jack's eyes light up at seeing his ship again, but he tears his eyes away from it to look at James again. He can see the pain in his eyes at telling him to go, and when James turns to him, he can see in his green eyes that he knows Jack knows now.  
  
But when Jack opens his mouth to say something, James holds up a hand and says, "Just go."  
  
So Jack does go, picking up all his belongings from around the room, giving Norrington one last look before going out the door and shutting it softly behind him. ~*~*~*~ 


	4. Freedom

I changed the title a) because I decided that James Norrington's eyes seem more green than blue, so they're green now (although I've checked and where I've checked say Jack Davenport's eyes are brown, so it's either labeled wrong, or he wore contacts, or he just has really cool color changing eyes.or something), and b) because the Wet Blue Eyes thing really only applied to the first chapter, but now that it's a series..hence, the title change.  
  
*~*~*~* Commodore James Norrington stands on the deck of the HMS Dauntless, breathing in the scent of the sea and the creaking wood beneath his feet. Glad that he has their time on the sea mostly to himself, he can barely contain his look of enjoyment before he gets to his Captain's quarters, with orders to the crew that they are not to bother him unless it's extremely important.  
  
A quiet whoop fills the room as James flops down on his bed, wiggling a bit in contentment. He sets his hat and wig on the desk, which is nearby, and pulls off his coat and shirt, lying back on the bed in only his trousers and boots.  
  
He would have liked to think some things over, which is the whole reason for going out to sea in the first place, but he falls asleep almost immediately. ~*~*~  
  
A frantic knocking on the cabin door startles him right off the bed, tangled in the sheets. "What is it?" he calls, working to untangle himself, kicking at the sheets with his bare feet, his boots having come off sometime during his nap.  
  
"Sir, we've found her. The Black Pearl, we've found her!"  
  
James stares at the door, bewildered at this bit of information, until Lieutenant Gillette opens it, poking his head through the gap, blinking when he sees James' state of undress. "Sir?"  
  
The timid voice snaps him back to reality and he lurches to his feet, pulling the door open further and scrambling past the man, out onto the deck to stare dumbfounded at what is indeed the Black Pearl coming up close to his ship.  
  
Lieutenant Groves comes up to him and says, "What's your plan of action?" seeming to ignore that the Commodore is in naught but his trousers.  
  
James still doesn't answer, just stands there, staring open-mouthed as Jack's crew prepares to board when the ships are close enough. It's when the crew actually starts to swing over onto his ship that he regains his senses. "Jack Sparrow, what's the meaning of this?"  
  
Said pirate lands gracefully on the deck and swaggers over to him, and though there's a pistol in one of Jack's hands, aimed at him, he can't help the leap in his chest at seeing the bronzed skin and beaded hair again. "Ah, Commodore, I thought you'd have learned by now: it's Captain Jack Sparrow, savvy? Now, if you'll be so kind, and hold out your hands?"  
  
James gives him a suspicious look, but holds out his hands, a small scowl appearing on his face when a length of rope is tied around his wrists. "You do so love that look, James," a voice murmurs in his ear when he's spun around and pulled back against Jack's chest. He looks at his officers' faces as he's moved backwards, and momentarily wonders why they aren't doing anything, before the barrel of a gun is pressed to his side.  
  
"You won't get away with this, Jack," but the words aren't entirely as forceful as he should want them to be; he can feel the heat from Jack's skin on his bare back, the sensation proving to be a wonderful distraction, in the most disturbingly delightful way.  
  
"Never fear, gentlemen. Your beloved Commodore will be returned to you, in time. I must ask that you not come for him prematurely." Jack calls back to The Dauntless when they're aboard The Pearl. That said, the gangplank between the two ships is pulled back, and The Black Pearl takes off.  
  
James sighs softly as he stands on the deck, the feel of the wind and smell of the sea somehow different now that he doesn't have to come up with excuses for his men. In a way, he's free, even though he's been captured. ~*~*~*~ 


	5. Confrontation Part 1

Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue. Warning: SLASHY. There is Sparrington kissing within. Matey's, ye be warned. Don' say I didnae warn ya.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
"Is this entirely necessary?" Green eyes meet brown, and stretched arms struggle against the binds holding them to the bed.  
  
"Well, we wouldn't want you to escape, now, would we?" Those brown eyes twinkle with amusement and mischief.  
  
"No, I suppose you wouldn't. But you could have tied me in a more comfortable position." Dark eyebrows rise at his suggestion, and he shifts awkwardly at the slight heat starting in his groin area.  
  
"And what fun would that be?" Now the amusement is in the voice, the dark eyes travelling down a stretched body, eyebrows raising again when the eyes have stopped their downward descent. "I see. Well James, I'm afraid I can't do that just yet. I'm quite enjoying having you like this, at my disposal." And with that, Jack leaves James to think in silence.  
  
~*~*~ Nobody knew how James Norrington could have possibly untied himself in such a short amount of time, but there he is, clear as day, advancing slowly on the Captain with a mad look in his eyes.  
  
"Now, James, we can work this out, can't we?" Jack tried to reason with him as the taller man backs him up against the railing of the ship.  
  
"You tied me to your bed," James says lowly, grabbing the lapels of Jack's jacket.  
  
"Yes, well. I do apologize for that, really, but I think you're taking this a bit too far," as he leans back, expecting a blow to the face, or to be thrown overboard.  
  
What he doesn't expect is for James to pull him closer and kiss him, almost desperately, a small sound escaping him at the touch of their lips together. Desire wells up in Jack almost immediately and he grasps James's hands, prising them off the lapels of his jacket in order to pull back from the kiss. He looks into the Naval Officer's eyes for a moment before dragging him to the Captain's quarters, ignoring the startled glances of his crew, and locks the door behind them.  
  
James sits on Jack's bed and buries his face in his hands. He doesn't know why he'd kissed Jack. They don't make any sense, his feelings for Jack. Not too long ago he'd hated the pirate's weasely black guts, but then..he doesn't really think he'd actually hated any part of Jack, but he did sort of envy the man's freedom.  
  
To be unbound by the law, with nothing to worry about but when the next storm would hit, and whether you'd live to see the morrow. James had always been guarantied the necessities of life as a child. He'd never had to worry about when his next meal would be, because it was always ready when the time came to eat.  
  
His father had been a military man, and had encouraged him to do the same, more so after his mother had been killed by a pirate. Before, he'd been just about as fascinated by pirates as Elizabeth is. Some of that fascination had faded after his father had died at sea, because he'd been told pirates had attacked his ship.  
  
When James had gone through his training for the Navy, he'd never gotten descriptions of a "good" pirate. He'd always heard stories of greedy, bloodthirsty scalawags. Jack is the first pirate he's encountered that's a good man at heart, and it confuses him beyond measure.  
  
He feels guilty for his feelings for Jack, on his parents' behalf. What would his father say? He knows what his mother would say, and he knows it would lead to a fight between her and his father. "As long as you are happy with what you are doing, I'll be happy for you." The first time she'd said that to him was when he was ten, after she'd told him a most adventurous story involving pirates. He'd said he wished he could have adventures like that. He wonders now whether she'd known one or two personally.  
  
**** "The only way you could have adventures of that nature, James, is to become a pirate yourself," the young woman said to the ten-year-old in her lap.  
  
He looked up at her with wide, green eyes. "Could I?"  
  
"As long as you are happy with what you are doing, I'll be happy for you." And she hugged her son tightly. ****  
  
A hand lightly touches his arm and he jumps, startled from his thoughts. He looks at the hand, almost brown compared to his own skin, and follows it up along a linen clad arm to meet dark brown eyes watching him with such scrutiny that he has to look away again.  
  
A finger touches lightly to the underside of his chin and tilts his head up to meet those eyes again, sliding along his jaw to rest just under his ear with the other four fingers. "James." The name is uttered softly in a voice rough from years of shouting over the crashing of waves and the booming of cannon-fire. "If you want to go back -"  
  
"No," comes the quick reply, accompanied by a shake of the head, a pale hand traveling up to cover the tanned one at his neck. "Not yet, Jack." His green eyes shine brightly as he says this and he nervously licks his lips, noticing that as he does, Jack's eyes are drawn to the movement.  
  
Jack leans closer, their noses almost touching, and looks at him for a moment, almost questioningly, before pressing his lips to James's. A shaky breath escapes him and his mouth falls open with it, unintentionally inviting Jack to tease his tongue along James's lower lip before slipping inside his mouth.  
  
Moaning softly, James moves his hand up to tangle in the hair at the back of Jack's head, his other hand clutching Jack's jacket tightly as he lies back, pulling Jack atop him. Jack breaks the kiss, panting against James's swollen, parted lips, and plucks at the ties to James's trousers, tugging lightly on them with question in his eyes. "Do you want this? Here and now, with me?"  
  
James stares at Jack, looking over his expression and features, the hand that had been clutching Jack's jacket now on top of Jack's at his trousers, nervously plucking at Jack's fingers. "I.." He trails off uncertainly.  
  
"As long as you are happy.."  
  
He starts trembling as if he's cold, recalling his mother's voice that day and how much he'd wanted to be a pirate. He has his mother's blessing in anything he does, as long as he's happy doing it. Now is another time to make a choice, and he knows which would make him happy.  
  
"I'll be happy for you."  
  
"Yes." *~*~*~* 


	6. Confrontation Part 2

Disclaimer: Same old, same old. Not mine, so don't sue. Warning: Slash interaction. That's all, really.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Jack wakes up with the suspicious feeling he's alone. Sure enough, when he looks over, there's no one there, and nothing but the rumpled sheets and scent of another give proof that anyone had been. Yet he knows James can't have gone far, seeing as he was on a ship in the middle of the Caribbean sea. Jack stretches before getting up, searching out his pants and finding them under the bed. He pulls them on and loosely laces them before leaving the cabin.  
  
He finds James leaning against the starboard railing, supposedly gazing out over the moonlit sea. James doesn't turn when he approaches, but he speaks softly, idly running a gentle hand over the wood of the ship. "She's a fine vessel, Jack. She responds to the lightest of touches. I came out here a while ago to think, and I could swear she was talking to me." He trails off, finally turning to Jack, admiratoin shining in his eyes.  
  
Only Jack isn't looking at James anymore, but looking proudly about his ship, stroking the wood himself. "She doesn't do that with most," he murmurs, almost as if to himself. He gets a sudden glint in his eyes and grabs James's hand, pulling him up to the helm. "Gibbs." Jack nods at the man steering the ship, and Gibbs nods back, stepping away. Jack tugs on James and places him in front of the wheel, pressing up close behind him, taking his hands and carefully settling them on the spokes of the wheel, keeping his own hands there.  
  
There seems a constant thrum coming from the wheel, as if there was actual life throbbing beneath the surface of the wood, waiting to be let loose. James stares at the wood in front of him with amazement. Jack chuckles and sets his chin on James's shoulder, trailing his hands teasingly up James's arms before wrapping them around his waist. "She's fond of you; she doesn't usually like it when other people steer her."  
  
James turns his head to look at Jack disbelievingly, their noses lightly brushing. The ship tilts slightly, and James is tipped towards Jack, their lips touching for a moment before Jack pulls away a little, snickering. "She must really like you, to be throwing you at me." Jack grins happily and covers one of James's hands with his own, the fingers of his other hand splayed on a pale, muscled stomach.  
  
James rolls his eyes. "There's probably a very good, reasonable explanation." He trails off when the wooden planks of the Pearl groan ominously. James looks around the ship in a suspicious sort of way, as if expecting some unseen enemy to just jump out. He shifts his hands nervously on the wheel, then yanks them back with a hiss when there's a sharp pain in them. Looking down, he finds a few large splinters embedded in his skin and he scowls.  
  
Jack clicks his tongue at him and gently takes his hands, carefully pulling out the pieces of wood. "She didn't like that very much. She does apologize, though. There, good as new. Or.well, almost." Jack grins at him and sets his hands on the wheel, but James keeps his hands tucked against his sides, pressing back against Jack's chest like a scared puppy, eyeing the wheel warily. Jack looks at him and chuckles again, but doesn't say anything, just hums softly to himself, turning his eyes back to the sea.  
  
James continues to stand against Jack's chest for a few moments more, watching the wheel and contemplating his next move. Finally deciding, he reaches out a tentative hand, and when he does so, he remembers something like this happening a while ago, when he was 11. It was when he'd gotten his first horse, and James feels like a fool to be comparing a horse to a ship, but the feeling was the same.  
  
Both the stallion and the Pearl had a few things in common. Pride, for one, and a wild and free spirit. Nothing but old age could stop them from doing anything, which is what had taken the stallion from this world. When James had first seen the horse, tethered to a fence and fighting to be freed, he'd felt compelled to calm the creature. To lay a hand on that twisting side and still the frantic pawing at the ground. And he'd done just that, and had a couple scars to prove it.  
  
So, in a way, he felt the same as he touched his fingers to the black wood, the same wariness and excitement welling up from deep within him, though this wasn't the first time of touching the Pearl. He feels like dancing around in triumph, and it takes a good deal of self-control not to. The ship sways with the movements of the sea, seeming more calm than he's ever seen her as he strokes his hand along the wheel with the same sort of reverence as he'd done to Jack a few hours before.  
  
Jack watches this display with a thoughtful air about him, wondering slightly at the thrilled look on James's face when he touched the Pearl again. "Think the Pearl'd like you on her crew," he murmurs, and just like that, the spell is broken, the boy in James retreating back into faraway memories.  
  
"What do you mean?" James asks warily; he doesn't want to talk about this.  
  
"Well, no one else has ever touched her close to the same way as I do. Think she'd like it if there were another to treat her kindly." He grins at James entreatingly, his eyebrows rising.  
  
"Jack, I.I can't. I have obligations in Port Royal. I have to-"  
  
"What is it you have to do, exactly? They can replace you, find someone else to be the Commodore. Come away with me, James."  
  
James is almost nearly desperate to get away, to think, his heart pounding to the rapid pace of his thoughts as he looks at Jack. "No, Jack. I'm not.I'm not made to be a pirate." He says it quietly, looking down, feeling the little boy in him start to come forward again, but he holds it back. He pushes at Jack's shoulders, making the smaller man step back, and he turns away and goes back to the Captain's cabin.  
  
Jack watches his retreating back disappointedly, absent-mindedly stroking the Pearl where James had just moments before. "Anyone could be a pirate, James." He says softly, but James has already closed the doors. ~*~*~*~ 


End file.
